


The Teacher and The Politician

by Spacesouffles



Series: Satsouffle [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), The Thick of It (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Malcolm deserves better, Older Man/Younger Woman, Past Relationship(s), Politics, Season 8 Clara Oswald, Slow Burn, Special Two: Spinners and Losers, fuckwald, satsoufflé, they both do actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-22 14:03:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13168467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spacesouffles/pseuds/Spacesouffles
Summary: Against his will, Malcolm Tucker is dragged out to celebrate Christmas with his pal Jamie. The night, in Malcolm's eyes goes from bad to worse. That is until he spots a beautiful, short woman about to throw her drink on a drunken fool. Suddenly, his night appears a little more exciting...Takes place around 'Spinners and Losers'





	1. Mad Friday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatFuckerTucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatFuckerTucker/gifts), [whouffaldigoldbelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/whouffaldigoldbelle/gifts).



What could be worse than the omnishambles of the British Government? Mad Friday. Malcolm Tucker hated going out to public events on an ordinary day, but tonight was bloody unbearable, completely agonising. The mess that was the British Public consisted of drunken students ranging up to drunken fifty-plus year olds, all making absolute fools of themselves. He wouldn’t be caught dead doing the pissing ‘cha cha slide’ around the dance floor of Jamie’s favourite bar.  

Their day had been a trying one. Everyday was always trying. Malcolm loathed his job at times, but deep down it was his entire being. It consisted of shouting, torturing stupid imbeciles and taking the piss out of Oliver Reeder. All he wanted now was to go home, have couple of red bulls and satsumas before collapsing into his bed for a good hour instead of having to hold the entire government together again.

“Look, I’ve had a whisky now can we please fuck off home before I have an aneurysm.” Malcom groaned, wiping his hand over his tired face. Jamie had forced him out for ‘a drink’ and Malcom had already argued that ‘a drink’ meant just one.

“One more Malcolm, and this time you can’t fucking neck the cunt, this shit is good.” He retorted, already calling over the bartender to pour them both another.

Malcolm watched the liquid pour into the glass as he sat, hunched over on his seat at the bar, the music was getting on his nerves, but the alcohol helped. The music, combined with the screaming and shouting and swearing of the drunken yobs in the bar was just one of the many reasons why the aging spin doctor despised the festive period. He turned his head to gaze over the mass of party-goers, all under the influence. That was the thing, for them it took three, maybe four drinks before they were completely rat-arsed, but for Malcolm and his now adapted biology, it took much longer. He wasn’t opposed to having a few drinks to get him through the stress of 10 Downing Street.

However, something across the dance floor attracted his attention or rather someone did. A young woman. The short brunette appeared to be trying to push away some drunken fool who was moving a little too close for her taste. She looked around, for her friends? For assistance? Malcolm was about to say something to Jamie about her when she shouted at the younger man. The Director of Communications couldn’t hear or make out what she said but he was guessing it was along the lines of ‘fuck off creep’.

Whatever it was appeared to anger him. The man snatched her wrist as she moved to push him away, causing her to stumble towards him. He took his chances and made his move. The next thing she knew, his lips were on hers, hard and uncomfortable. The stench and taste of alcohol repulsed her. He squeezed her wrist tighter, trying to stop her fighting back.

That was it.

Malcolm didn’t care in the slightest whom he tripped over, barged into or spilt the drink of on his way over to them. Jamie was calling for him to come back unaware. He hated men like that. Individuals who thought they were God’s fucking gift.

Tucker put his large hand on the man’s shoulder and pulled him back with a strength he didn’t know he possessed, possibly from the built-up stress of his job.

“Oi fuckwit, she said back off!” he hissed.

The woman managed to move back, however she did not stand down. Up with a lightening fast speed came her hand as it connected with the creep’s jaw. Adrenaline ran through her body as she seethed. Malcolm was quite surprised.

Small but mighty. He allowed himself a smirk before turning to the man, nursing his face after the blow. Malcolm’s eyes darkened, his silver brows furrowing – attack eyebrows.

“You fucking touch anyone like that again and I’ll personally make sure you spend the rest of the fucking year in a bloody cell, now fuck off!” he spoke lowly, but even over the sound of the blaring music he was understood.

Once he’d gone, Malcolm turned back to the woman who was rubbing her wrist. “You alright, lass?”

“Better now, but I totally had that under control.”

“Ah, forgive me, I didn’t realise having your wrist almost broken was part of your cunning plan.”

Surprisingly, she cracked a smile. Was she sloshed too?

“I’m Clara, Clara Oswald” she stuck out her other hand for him to shake.

“And there I thought you were Mike Tyson in disguise – Malcom.” He replied and shook her hand.

Still she smiled at him.

“I suppose it’s only fitting to offer my knight in shining armour a drink?”

Malcolm again was surprised. “So, I am your knight then?’ A chuckle escaped his lips as he spoke.

“No, I just thought your ego might be a little bruised. Come on…” she nodded to the bar and he found himself following her, smirking as he went.

Jamie was impressed, Malcolm was heading back towards the bar with a young lady leading the way. He caught his best friend’s eye and raised his glass. However, Malcolm gave him a ‘watch it’ look. Only then did Malcolm realise how small she was as he watched her jump up onto the stool.

She was pulling out her phone to text her friends, where had they gone? However, knowing Amy she was probably hooking up with Rory somewhere and the rest of the group had probably moved onto another bar. Clara rolled her eyes before turning back to look at Malcolm.

“Why do you look so surprised all the time? You look like an owl.” She laughed as she waited to be served. “Sit down.”

“I don’t look like a fucking owl.” He retorted, still standing. “Fucking bossy much, considering I just did you a favour.”

Clara replied with a smirk, “Do you always swear?”

That made him laugh. “Aye, I fucking do.”

She raised her brows as she chuckled too. There was something about her that Malcolm didn’t mind so much. He found himself able to stand being around a member of the general public. Maybe it was her bossy attitude. Maybe it was the fact she was ballsy, a spitfire. Or maybe it was because of both of those features and the fact she was quite attractive. She could hold her own, and that was fascinating to him.


	2. Christmas Eve|Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are worse ways to spend Christmas Eve...

London was seeing it’s first sprinkling of snow, just in time for Christmas. Clara loved this holiday season, chestnuts roasting, open fires, the crunch of snow beneath her boots. The tiny paw prints of dogs getting their first glimpses of snow.

She had just finished packing her suitcase as she was going back home for Christmas, to spend time with her dad and grandmother. She didn’t get to see them often with working at Coal Hill, but this year she had promised she’d go up.

Clara zipped up her deep red suitcase before moving over to unplug her charging iPhone. A frown formed on her lips.

3 Missed Calls. Linda.

That could not be good.

A sinking feeling suddenly took over her as she dialled her father’s number. It rang five times before he answered, a sigh.

“Clara…”

“Dad, what’s up? I’ve just seen my phone, I’m about to head out now.”

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to have you over, at least not for tomorrow… Linda isn’t feeling very well and…” he sounded somewhat sad to inform his daughter that their plans had been cancelled. But he loved his wife.

Clara had stopped listening, tuned out as the realisation hit that this would be her first Christmas completely alone.

“…But I’m sure she’ll be well enough for New Years Day if you can make it over then…” she realised he was still talking.

“Yeah, sure Dad… give her my best yeah?” She couldn’t care less about that spiteful woman. No way was she ill. Linda hated Clara, and Clara hated Linda.

“I will do once she has woken up, she’s resting at the minute. Sorry, Clara…”

They spoke for a few more minutes before they hung up. She was now sitting on her floor with nothing to do but unpack her bag and mope around. But moping was not something Clara Oswald was good at.

* * *

 

Within the next hour she found herself heading out to the tube station to go shopping. It was a mad rush, last minute Christmas shoppers, delays due to minuscule amounts of snow and to top it off, couples holding hands and kissing away the chaos. 

She should have really expected her year to end this way. Alone, Linda pulling one of her stunts causing her to cancel her plans. Luckily, she was good at improvising. With a make shift shopping list in her head she found herself in Waitrose only to realise 97% of the stock was gone. 

"Shit" she cursed. Just her luck. 

Back up plan B... Tesco metro. All she needed for the perfect Christmas for one was a few bottles of wine, the cheaper the better and a couple of boxes of chocolates. Maybe a couple of satsumas to remind herself just how miserable her life could be. 

A rich Scottish voice tore her from her thoughts. 

"I don't care if it's fucking Christmas tomorrow, I asked you to fucking sort it today so it should have been done fucking yesterday, got it?" He hissed into his phone. 

Clara spun round to see the owner of that aggressive voice. Oh no.

"Malcolm?" she asked. 

Oh no indeed. He was about to tell the woman interrupting him to hush up but then he saw those big brown eyes. "Clara?" Disbelief. "No I'm not calling you Clara, ok, fuckity bye!" The call ended. "And there was me thinking I wouldn't be recognised in these" he pointed to his glasses, a small smirk appeared on his face.

"Bit hard to miss with you yelling like that, you'll scare the mice away," she teased him. She hadn't seen him since last week after he had taken her home in a taxi. He didn't trust the tube. 

"Ah, well, they should start paying me for that too, pest control at your fucking service," he grinned. 

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a family to be with?" She asked, adjusting her grip on the basket. 

"I could ask you the same, thought teachers were always prepared and shit, last minute food shop?" He peered into her basket. "Maybe not.." 

"I was supposed to be on my way to - never mind, it's just me this year"  

"That sounds like a long story, that and the four bottles of wine in your basket and the amount of chocolate..." he chewed the inside of his mouth. "Say... you want to help me finish my fucking shopping? I can't find any satsumas anywhere, I think some twat took them all" he huffed.

Clara smirked at him before moving one of the boxes of chocolates. Satsumas. "Found some."

Malcolm looked inside. 

"Fancy a drink?" she asked out of the blue.

"A drink?" His thick brow rose. "Be a little more specific..."

"A drink, at a pub, with me?" 

"You've never been alone before on Christmas Eve have you" he chuckled then. Clara had began to form her retort when she noticed he was still smiling. "You might be able to squeeze inside as you're a fucking midget. Me on the other hand, I wouldn't even be able to get my left fucking little toe inside. They're packed." But a drink did sound nice. "What if I asked you for a drink... at my humble abode?"

A pause. Only a beat.

"I'd say lead the way."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter as the next couple are going to be big ones.  
> I've had to prepare for some exams, sorry for the delay.  
> Hopefully from here on out updates will be quicker  
> L xx


End file.
